


Never Gonna Let You Down

by Emily_F6



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Peter Parker Needs a Break, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21948661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_F6/pseuds/Emily_F6
Summary: When Peter agrees to watch Morgan for a week while her parents go on vacation, he’s determined not to let Mr. Stark down.  Unfortunately for him, just because he’s Spiderman doesn’t mean he’s immune to the flu.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Morgan Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 28
Kudos: 524
Collections: Iron Dad Secret Santa 2019, Stories that I like but I haven't read yet





	Never Gonna Let You Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bethy_277](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethy_277/gifts).



When Mr. Stark had first brought up the idea of taking Pepper to Hawaii for a kind of second honeymoon during Peter’s winter holiday, he and Peter had been standing in his lab in the tower, the two of them working with the nanotech in Peter’s suit. It was his first semester at college, and even though he’d gotten into MIT, after everything that had happened with Thanos and the snap and Mr. Stark nearly dying, he’d decided to spend his first year somewhere a bit closer to home.

He did live on campus, but he had been spending one weekend a month with May, and at least two Saturdays a month with Mr. Stark, who had been loathe to let him out of his sight after the whole Beck debacle. He was officially retired, but he’d had no problem assembling the Avengers to help Peter out as soon as he’d figured out what Beck was up to, and Sam and Bucky has been the first on the scene, followed by Rhodey. 

Between the four of them, they’d taken Beck down no problem, and Mr. Stark had flown over with them, waiting impatiently at the hotel where he’d thrown his arms around Peter as soon as he’d seen him, a hand on his cheek as he’d looked him up and down, and he’d asked again and again if Peter was okay. 

Then he’d sworn to eviscerate Nick Fury...Peter never did find out what happened with that.

They spent their lab days working on their tech or, more often than not, playing around in the lab for an hour before going upstairs to sit on the sofa and watch a movie. Inevitably, Peter would end up curled under his arm, his head resting on Mr. Stark’s shoulder, trying not to think about the years he’d missed or the way Mr. Stark had looked after he’d snapped his fingers...after he’d wielded the gauntlet and...and more than once, Mr. Stark would shake him awake from nightmares, holding him close and promising that everything was okay. 

Other nights, Peter would be the one waking him, promising that he was okay...that they’d won. That Peter was real. 

Mr. Stark has cleared his throat that day, about a month before Peter’s winter break. Peter had thought about canceling for the first time...he’d needed to study for his upcoming finals. But in the end, he hadn’t been able to bear the thought of not seeing Mr. Stark that Saturday. 

“Hey, Pete? I was wondering if I could run something by you.”

Peter had glanced up from the screen he’d been staring at, turning in his spinny chair and looking up at his mentor. 

No. Mentor wasn’t enough anymore. Hell, Peter didn’t know what word could be enough. But mentor was all he really had. Mr. Stark wasn’t his dad...but there were days when it felt like he was. When Peter almost wanted him to be. 

“Sure. What’s up?” He’d asked.

“Well...the holidays are coming up, and I know you’ll be out of school most of December. I was just thinking...you know, when Pep and I got married, we didn’t really have much of a ceremony or anything...we didn’t have a honeymoon either. And after Little Miss came along, we...well, we never wanted to leave her.” 

Peter nodded, fully understanding that. Morgan had decreed that Peter was her big brother after meeting him only once, telling him in a whisper that hadn’t been all that quiet, that her daddy had told her lots of stories about him. Ever since, Peter had come by the lake house every so often, but less often in college since he wasn’t exactly swimming in free time. Still, he had babysat a few nights so that Mr. Stark and Pepper could go out, and was always happy to do it. Morgan had told him that he was the only babysitter she’d ever had besides uncle Rhodey. 

He was one of only two people that Mr. Stark had ever trusted with Morgan.

“So I was thinking...and you can totally say no... how would you feel about watching your sister for a week in December so I can take Pepper to Hawaii. I would pay you, and again, if you don’t feel comfortable…” Mr. Stark had continued, but Peter had felt his chest tighten, heart stopping when Mr. Stark said the words ‘little sister’ so casually...he hadn’t even seemed to think about them. 

“Of course.” Peter had cut in, interrupting whatever else Mr. Stark had been saying. “And you don’t have to pay me. I’d be happy to stay with her.”

And that had been that. 

Peter got through his finals, pulling all-nighter after all-nighter. Thankfully, he’d gotten to room with Ned who didn’t care so much, but he knew that his friend was worried about him. For a solid week, he ate nothing but Ramen, protein bars, and Mountain Dew, which was possibly how he’d contracted whatever evil flu virus that managed to sneak in past his spider powers.

He woke the day before he was supposed to head back home, the day after his last final, with a scratchy throat and a headache. Figuring it was just a normal sinus problem, he bought a carton of orange juice and drank the whole thing, then bought a couple of oranges, eating one after the other.

He couldn’t get sick. Not right before Mr. Stark’s vacation. He’d been feeling run down and tired all month, but he’d just talked to the man the night before. Mr. Stark had been telling him how excited Morgan was to have Peter staying with her for a whole week when Peter had blurted out the question he’d been dying to ask for weeks. 

“Are you sure? I mean...are you sure you trust me to stay with her for a whole week?”

Mr. Stark has been quiet for a moment, and when he’d spoken again, his voice had been so soft…so gentle. So unlike how Peter has ever heard him before coming back to life on Titan, his body reassembling itself piece by piece. 

“Pete. Of course, I trust you. Hell, kiddo, there’s no one I trust more. You’re her big brother. I know you’d never let anything happen to her.” 

There it had been again. Little sister. Big brother. He and Mr. Stark hadn’t exactly addressed their new relationship after the battle at the compound. Or after Peter’s field trip. But it had definitely shifted. Mr. Stark was softer with him now. Kinder. After he’d woken up at the hospital, he’d pulled Peter close with his one good arm and had told him that he loved him...that he’d missed him so much. And then, the man had cried. Actually cried. Over Peter. So yeah, things were different, and there was no way Peter was going to let him down over a little cold. 

So, glad that Ned had already gone home and wouldn’t be there to call him out, he ran to the store and used the credit card that Mr. Stark has given him and bought all the cold and flu supplies he could find, spending the rest of the day in a NyQuil induced stupor. 

When he woke the next day, he didn’t feel too bad and figured that maybe he’d just needed some sleep. So he packed his bag, threw his stuff into the trunk of his car, which had been a graduation gift, also from Mr. Stark, and headed for the lakehouse. He had plenty of his own stuff there in the room that Mr. Star had designed for him while building the place...it had been a guest room for five years, and now it was Peter’s, filled with his clothes and books and LEGO sculptures. So he hadn’t exactly needed to pack much. 

He did make sure to pack all of that cold medicine though.

When he arrived a few hours later, pulling carefully into the driveway and making sure to keep an eye out for Gerald, Morgan was the first to greet him, throwing herself into his arms as soon as he managed to climb out of the car, gripping his neck in a vice grip. “Peter! You haven’t come home in so long!” She cried, nose digging into his neck. He chuckled, slipping an arm under her and supporting her with one arm, then kissing her hair.

“I know...I had to take a bunch of tests for school. But I'm staying with you for the whole week.” Opening his passenger side door, he grabbed his duffle back, throwing it easily over his other shoulder, then carried her toward the house here Mr. Stark waited on the porch, a soft smile on his face as he leaned against the support post, arms crossed. 

“Hey, kiddo.” Mr. Stark stood upright as Peter approached, opening his arms and pulling both Peter and Morgan into them, his lips pressing against Peter’s hair just as Peter’s had pressed against Morgan’s. “It’s good to see you. How were finals?” He asked, giving Peter a critical once over. 

“Not too bad. Just waiting to hear about the history one. It should be posted by tonight.” 

“Alright, bud. Come on in...we’re leaving tonight, so we made sure the kitchen was stocked. Batteries in the smoke detectors have all been changed…” 

Peter rolled his eyes at Mr. Stark’s teasing tone, dropping his duffle bag by the door but keeping Morgan in his arm. She rested her head against his shoulder. At almost six years old, he knew she didn’t take naps anymore, but she still got tired in the afternoon...it surprised him sometimes how much he knew about this girl that he’d only met a year ago, like how she’d hated taking naps and how she’d loved books about alpacas and her alpaca stuffed animal so much that her father had bought a real one. How she’d soon moved on to Orcas and how Mr. Stark had refused to buy her one of those to put in the lake. How he had been her favorite bedtime story.

“Friday is connected in all the rooms so just call her if you need anything. Eat when you’re hungry. No swimming in the winter. Bedtime at 8:30.”

“For me or her?” Peter asked with a grin, and Mr. Stark threw an apple at him that he caught easily. 

“For both of you, brat.”

Morgan giggled. “He can’t go to bed at 8:30, Daddy. He’s a grown-up. Grown-ups stay up late.”

Mr. Stark snorted at her as Peter took a bite of his apple. “Yeah, Mr. Stark. I’m a grown-up.” He stuck his tongue out and the man rolled his eyes.

“Yeah. I can tell.” But his face was soft as he watched Peter swallow his bite of the apple and offer it to Morgan who took a bite of her own. “Snacks are in the fridge. One juice pop a day, and only after she eats real food.” He gave Morgan a look, pointing his finger. “He’s going to remember that, Morguna, so don’t try to convince him otherwise.”

“But juice pops are good for you! They’re from fruit!” Morgan reminded her father, wiggling so that Peter would put her down, and she held up the apple as evidence.

“Yeah, Mr. Stark. They’re practically broccoli. Oh, maybe we can make broccoli pops!” He suggested, and both Mr. Stark and Peter laughed at the face Morgan made, sticking out her tongue with an exaggerated ‘blech.’ 

“If you can get her to eat broccoli, more power to you, kid.” He reached out, a hand on Peter’s shoulder, and Morgan wandered over to the living room where the TV was playing a cartoon she must have been watching before Peter arrived, Peter’s apple still in her hands as she munched on it. “Seriously, kid. Thank you. If you need anything, you can have Friday call me.”

Peter grinned, leaning into the man’s side and hoping that Mr. Stark didn’t notice how warm he was. He thought it might be time for another dose of cold medicine. “I will.” 

“She’s a pretty easy kid. I got lucky...got two of the best kids in the world.” He squeezed Peter into a hug, and Peter closed his eyes, soaking the words in. “Have you had lunch yet?” The man asked after a moment, not pulling away. It was another change from before. Before Peter had been snapped, Mr. Stark had been practically allergic to emotional displays, and any one-armed hugs or shoulder pats had been quickly undercut by a joke or moved past. Now, Mr. Stark seemed to have no problem just holding him. Just being close to him.

“Not yet.”

“Alright. Pep’s making lasagna. You want to watch TV with Morgan? Her current favorite is about puppies who are somehow qualified to be police officers.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Stark. While you’re gone, I’ll get her watching something more interesting. Has she seen Game of Thrones yet?”

The man beside him scoffed, cuffing him gently on the back of the head. “You’re not even old enough to watch that. HBO is blocked, Spiderling, and I’ll know if you unblock it.” 

Peter laughed, grabbing his bag. “Fine. We’ll have to make do with the police puppies then. Hey, maybe we can get her a real puppy.” 

“Don’t even joke.” Mr. Stark hissed with a pointed finger. “She’s still trying for that orca.”

“Fine. No surprise pets. I’m going to throw my stuff in my room.”

“Alright, Pete.” And with a quick ruffle of his hair, Mr. Stark was off to help Pepper in the kitchen. Making sure his door was shut, Peter downed some more medicine, then joined Morgan in the living room for cartoons which he half-watched while texting Ned, quickly giving up on keeping the different puppies on TV straight. 

Lunch was a quiet affair, and afterward, Pepper pulled him into a hug and thanked him for watching Morgan for them. He assured her that he was happy to help and promised that he’d look after her and the house and that everything would be fine. It was still something of a surprise to him that they both trusted him with their entire world. 

Peter hugged Pepper goodbye, then found himself pulled to Mr. Stark’s chest, the man’s arms warm and comfortable around him. “I love you, kiddo. Remember, you can call if you need anything.”

“I love you too,” Peter whispered. It still felt like a novel thing to be able to say to Mr. Stark, even when he’d felt it for years...and he thought that Mr. Stark had too. Still, they could say it now, and he squeezed his mentor and friend and father figure a little more tightly. “Be careful. Have fun.” 

The man chuckled softly, pulling back and putting his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “You too, buddy.” 

While they were saying goodbye to Morgan, who only cried a little, Peter leaned on the counter, feeling oddly tired. It was only six, but his whole body felt drained, and his head felt strange...almost full and painful. When the door shut behind her parents, Morgan hurried back to him, and he pulled her into his arms and stood up, holding her. “It’s only for a few days, Mo. Promise. And we’re going to have a lot of fun! Right?”

And because Morgan had never been exposed to the fact that parents could go off of a plane ride for work and never come home...had never known her father as the hero that put his life in danger every day and who had been kidnapped and shot at and nearly killed a thousand times, she believed him. It was an innocence that Peter hadn’t had since he was her age himself, but he was glad she had it.

He hoped she never lost it.

That night, he made her dinner, a special dinner of pizza and breadsticks and a juice pop for dessert, then after she took her bath and put on her pajamas then brushed her teeth, he tucked her into bed, reading her a full three stories before she was nodding off. 

Then he took enough cold medicine for Gerald the Alpaca, who he also remembered to feed, and went to bed at the totally grown-up hour of 9:20.

When he woke, he felt worse, but he didn’t let it show. Not as he made her pancakes for breakfast with chocolate chips, and not when the two bundled up and went outside to play hide and seek and tag and hide and seek again and hopscotch and a thousand other games before she was ready to come in. His headache had grown to a pounding so intense that he could barely bend over and untie his own shoes, but he swallowed a handful of ibuprofen and made Morgan’s lunch, then let her watch TV while he lay on the sofa and hoped he’d feel better soon.

He didn’t. 

Mr. Stark checked in every night, calling to ask if everything was okay and to talk to Morgan, and they both assured him that things were fine and that the house was still standing. Morgan declared Peter the best babysitter ever, and on the third night, halfway through their week together, Mr. Star gave him a strange look. 

“Pete? You feeling okay, bud?”

“Oh, yeah!” Peter assured him with what he was sure was a wan smile. “Just tired.”

“We played outside for hours! Then we played inside and made a pillow fort and cleaned it up and climbed trees outside...well, Peter did and he carried me so I wouldn’t fall and then we skipped rocks on the lake and played tag and went back inside and he read me four books and then…” She trailed off when her dad gave a chuckle.

“Wow. You did a lot today, huh? But go easy on Pete, Morguna. He’s getting old, remember.” 

Peter rolled his eyes while Morgan giggled, but he couldn’t help noticing the genuine concern in Mr. Stark’s eyes. Not wanting to risk the man catching on to his worsening cold, Peter tugged on Morgan’s hair gently. “Hey, Mo, we’d better let your dad go. It’s almost dinnertime, remember?”

“Oh yeah! Peter’s going to take me to McDonald's! And I can get a toy!”

“Yeah? That sounds fun, baby. You two be careful, okay? I’ll talk to you both tomorrow.” And with another long look, the man hung up. 

Morgan’s booster seat was already in Peter’s car, so the two headed into the city to get McDonald's, and then he let her play in the play area for a while as he sipped a hot chocolate and took more cold medicine. His whole body was drained of energy, and his head hurt more every day. He just wanted to lay down...just wanted to close his eyes…

“Peter?” 

He jumped at the voice, looking up at Morgan who stood in front of him in her socks, a hand on his arm. “Hey, Mo. You done playing?”

“Yeah...were you sleeping?”

“No...just uh...resting my eyes for a minute.” 

“That’s what Dad says when he’s sleeping.” She told him in a voice so serious only a five-year-old could accomplish it.

“Yeah, well, Da….uh...your dad is old, so he needs lots of naps.” 

Morgan giggled, sitting beside him on the bench seat. Then she spoke again, voice soft. “Are you really tired because of me?” 

“No.” He reassured her instantly, turning to put his arms around her. “No...I’m just tired because I was really really busy at school and I didn’t get to sleep a lot. I’m still catching up.”

“Oh,” she murmured, then turned to look up at him sternly. “Then tonight you need to go to bed early and get lots of sleep so you feel better.”

He smiled, feeling his heart get warm and soft and full of love for the little girl who really was like his sister.

“You know what? I think you’re right. You ready to head home?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, and the two headed home so he could do just that. 

It was on their last full day that he woke up feeling the worst. He’d run out of cold medicine the night before and hadn’t thought to pick any more up while they’d been out. Swallowing saliva to wet his throat, which felt like sandpaper, Peter tried to sit up, but his head spun and he groaned, barely having the energy to reach over and grab his phone. Everything hurt...his whole body was one big ache and the light from his phone sent needles of pain into his eyes.

He needed to get up. He knew that he needed to get up. Because...because he needed to take care of someone. But all he wanted at the moment was for someone to take care of him. He wanted...he wanted his dad. No...not his dad. Morgan’s dad, he corrected himself. Mr. Stark. 

He must have fallen asleep because there was a soft tapping on his door and then...then a hand was touching his arm over the blankets. He jumped, gasping and looking around only to find Morgan standing in front of his bed. 

“Peter?” She asked, sounding afraid. He didn’t want her to be afraid! Not ever!

“Hey, Mo. Did I oversleep?” He asked, and even to him his voice sounded bad.

“It’s almost 1...I asked Friday if you were okay and she said that you had a fever.”

“Oh…” He murmured, almost giving into the temptation to go back to sleep, but then he managed to process what she’d just said. “Oh! It’s almost one!” He cried, sitting up and immediately regretting it when the whole world went gray. She watched him with huge, tear-filled eyes, and he forced himself to stay awake. “I’m sorry...I’ll make you food...I’m sorry, Mo…”

“Are you sick?” She asked, tears in her voice, and he knew that he couldn’t lie to her.

“Just a little. But I’m okay. Did you eat anything yet?”

“I had an apple, and I know I’m not supposed to have cookies before dinner but I couldn’t reach the cereal bowls and I’m not allowed to use the stove…”

“Hey...hey, Mo...it’s okay. You did good. It’s better to have cookies than go hungry, right?” He asked, holding out his arms, and she climbed into the bed beside him, sniffling and holding him tight. 

“You’re really hot.” She whispered.

“I know. It’s because I’m a little sick. But I’m going to get up and make you a really good lunch, okay?”

“Okay.” The girl didn't look convinced, but he wasn't sure he was up to convincing her...he was barely up to sitting upright.

“What do you want to eat?”

“Grilled cheese and soup?”

“Coming right up.”

Still in his pajamas, he managed to get to his feet as the world swayed around him. He must have swayed too, because Morgan grabbed his arm, her tiny fingers wrapping around his wrist. 

“Petey?” She asked, voice shaking.

“I’m okay. Promise. Just…”. He closed his eyes and tried to focus. “Sorry, Mo. I’m just tired. Let’s get you something to eat, huh?”

By some miracle, he managed to make it to the kitchen where he put a sandwich together and grilled it, then made her a big bowl of soup, and, since she hadn’t had breakfast, he cut up some apples and bananas and grapes and gave those to her in a bowl too.

While she was eating, he sat across from her, struggling to keep his head up. He knew that she was watching him...that she was scared. And he didn’t want to scare her...so he did his best to stay upright in his chair. Chin in his hand, he fought to keep his eyes open, but he must have failed and nodded off because the next thing he knew, someone was touching his arm. “Peter?”

“Hey.” His head jerked upright, and he gave her his best smile. “Hey, Morgan. You done? Do you want anything else to eat?”

“No...shouldn’t you eat?”

The thought of eating almost made him gag, so he shook his head. “No...I’m not hungry. Why don’t we go watch some TV, huh?”

She gave a slow nod, looking at at her plate. “Do you want me to wash it?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll get it later.” 

Morgan stuck close to his side and the two made their way over to the sofa where Peter practically collapsed, his head landing hard on the pillow. He shivered, staring at the black TV and trying to find the will to grab the remote when something was laid over him. He glanced over and found that Morgan was trying to cover him up. “Thanks, Morgan.” 

She didn’t answer, and he closed his eyes, shivering under the blanket. He was so cold...so tired...and then someone poked his arm and he jerked awake once more. “Huh?”

“Here.” She held out a glass of water. “I couldn’t reach the ice…”

“Oh...thanks.” He took it, reaching out and patting clumsily at her arm before drinking the water, doing his best to sit up. It was lukewarm and he managed a few swallows before he had to set it down on the floor, afraid of dropping the glass and breaking it. 

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I just...I need to rest for just...just a minute…” He muttered, doing his best to get his mouth to work. She reached out, her tiny hand pressing against his forehead.

“Peter? You’re really hot.” 

“Yeah...because...I’m sick but...it’s fine…” He trailed off, eyes getting heavier and heavier. At some point, he felt something cold rest on his forehead, and he reached up, surprised to find something wet there. He tried to move it, but he couldn’t get his fingers to cooperate. The blanket was tucked in around him, and a straw held to his lips. He struggled to get a few mouthfuls of water but barely managed it...he just wanted to sleep. Just needed sleep.

He could hear Morgan talking. He knew that it was Morgan because he was supposed to be watching her but something was wrong. Had...had he fed Gerald that morning? His dreams seemed to blend together and he hurt so much...everything...his arms and legs and his back and his mouth felt like sandpaper and his head was spinning and throbbing...he wanted Morgan’s dad...dad...his dad? 

“Peter? Wake up...please…” Morgan was asking him to wake up. Was it time for dinner? He had to make her dinner!

He opened his mouth to tell her that he was getting up but he couldn’t even do that...couldn’t get any part of him to respond to her. And then she was crying and he felt like he was boiling...like his skin was on fire and he groaned, struggling to push the blanket off, but he couldn’t do it. He just wanted water...he had to have water! 

“Daddy?” 

“Hey, baby...what’s wrong?” He knew that voice. Dad...Morgan’s dad or his dad or...something.

“Something’s wrong with Peter!” 

Was he dreaming? Where was Morgan?

“What’s wrong with him? Where is he?”

“He’s on the couch and he slept until after lunch and now he won’t wake up!”

There was more to that conversation and he thought he heard Friday but all he could do was sleep. He couldn’t even turn his head to drink when a straw touched his mouth or move the blankets smothering him...but he had to make Morgan dinner!

The hand that touched him next was different. The blankets were suddenly being pulled away and something cold and wet cover his forehead while something else went into his ear. He shuddered at the feeling, but couldn’t do more than groan. 

“It’s almost 104, Tony. I’ve got to cool him off right now.” 

“Morgan?” He asked, his voice coming out a rasp. 

“Take it easy, Pete. It’s Rhodey. You’re okay.” A soft voice assured him as he was lifted up. 

“But...Morgan...gotta...gotta make...dinner and…”

“It’s okay, Peter. Sam’s here too. He’s making her some dinner. She’s okay.”

“Rhodey!” A familiar voice called...Morgan’s dad! “What’s going on with him?”

“The fever’s bad, Tones. He’s dehydrated...I doubt he’s eaten anything today.”

Peter thought he could hear Morgan crying and he felt his own eyes fill with tears. His whole body shuddered in a sob as he was carried...and somewhere there was water running. “I’m sorry...sorry...dad…”

“You’re okay. It’s okay, Peter.” Rhodey murmured, and then he was placed in a tub that felt like it had to be full of ice water and he screamed, head slamming back into the ledge of the tub and making the world spin. “Shit!”

“Rhodey! Did he hit his head? Is that blood?”

“I have to let you go, Tony! Sam! Get up here!”

“Don’t you dare hang up!” 

That was Mr. Stark! Morgan’s dad! “Dad!” Peter cried out, struggling to lift his hand out of the water, and when he opened his eyes, he could see a phone propped up on the toilet lid and Mr. Stark watching him. Why had he called him dad? This was Morgan’s dad...but his brain felt strange and disconnected and the word came out of his mouth again. “Dad...I...Morgan...I tried…”

“It’s okay, Peter! You’re going to be fine, buddy. I’m on my way back. I’ll be there soon, okay. Just let Rhodey take care of you…” 

Something was being held to the back of his head...something soft, and the icy water sapped him of what little strength he had. “Couldn’t let...let you down...dad…” He sobbed, then let his eyes close, Mr. Stark’s stricken expression the last thing he saw.

Peter knew that people were moving around him. Someone held something to his head and someone else placed something cold and wet on his forehead once more. Morgan? Hadn’t Morgan done that? A cold glass of water was held to his lips...and then he was being lifted. His whole body shook from the cold, and then...then he was in pajamas and...and being lifted…

Then he was in bed. Warm. Comfortable bed. A needle poked into his arm and there was something cool and...he was so dizzy…

“It’s okay, baby. He’s okay.”

“I didn’t know...what medicine to give him...but I put a washcloth...on...on his head…” 

Morgan was crying. Sobbing. Why was Morgan crying? Morgan shouldn’t be crying! Had he not made her dinner? Or...or was she hurt? 

“And covered him up but...but he wouldn’t wake up!” 

“It’s okay. Shhh, baby girl...you did a really good job taking care of him. And he’s okay now. He was just sick, but now he’s okay.”

“He...he didn’t wake up!” The girl wailed.

“I know. I know it was scary. But you were so brave, baby.” 

“Mo...Mo don’t…” He tried to say, but his tongue weighed a hundred thousand pounds and even he couldn’t lift it. 

“Peter?” Morgan’s dad asked. Morgan’s dad...no...dad? No...Peter couldn’t figure it out.

“Da’? He asked, and a hand brushed his hair back. 

“I’m right here, buddy. You with us?”

“Morgan?” He asked, struggling to get the word out.

“She’s right here too. She’s fine.” 

Peter forced his eyes open, struggling against the rush of dizziness that brought. The figures by his bed were blurred and he was so, so tired. “Sorry...so sorry...I...slept and...her dinner…”

“She’s just fine, buddy. It’s okay. She got her dinner.” The hand rested on his forehead again, the thumb brushing against the top of his nose, then down his cheek. “You’ve still got a fever, Pete. Just keep resting. We’ve got you on the good drugs, okay?”

“Mhm.” Peter tried to answer, but he was asleep again.

When he woke the next time, Mr. Stark was there, sitting beside his bed, scrolling through something on his phone. He felt better...like he could think. And that’s when he remembered. The vacation. Mr. Stark and Pepper. Morgan! “Morgan?” He asked, starting to sit up, but Mr. Stark’s eyes went wide and he reached out a hand, gently pressing him back to the bed. 

“Easy...easy, Pete. Morgan’s fine. She’s in bed. It’s almost two in the morning.”

“Oh...I didn’t make her dinner! I’m sorry...I’m so sorry...I couldn’t...”

“Woah,” he murmured, reaching out and gripping Peter’s shoulder. “Take a deep breath, Peter. She’s fine. She had Friday call me...Rhodey came out with Sam and they took care of her. She got her dinner. She’s fine. Pepper and I got here yesterday afternoon...Rhodey took care of you. Got your fever down.”

Peter thought he might remember that...something about a bath…

“I...Mr. Stark...I’m so sorry. I...I got sick and I couldn’t...I…” Tears were filling his eyes at the thought of letting his mentor down, but Mr. Stark placed a hand on Peter’s cheek and shook his head.

“It wasn’t your fault, Peter. You took care of Morgan for as long as you could...hell, longer than you should have been able to. Your fever spiked...when you were making her lunch, it was up to almost 103. You shouldn’t even have been able to walk straight. But you took care of her. It kept going up...Rhodey told me it was 103.8 when he got you in that tub...then you busted your head open…” He shook his head, squeezing Peter’s shoulder. “How are you feeling now?”

“Um...I’m okay...I think.” 

“Good. You’re staying in bed for the rest of the day. Morgan has already volunteered to help take care of you when she gets up. She asked if we could make you pancakes for breakfast.” 

Peter managed a smile at that, yawning and struggling to lift his hand to cover his mouth. 

“Pete?” Mr. Stark asked then, voice dropping.

“Hm?”

“I want you to know...you didn’t let me down. You...you couldn’t. Not ever. I...I love you so much, Peter. You’re like my kid...hell...you are my kid. Your Morgan’s big brother and you’re my kid and nothing you did could ever make me stop loving you. Especially not getting sick.”

“I didn’t want you to cancel your vacation,” Peter told him in a shamed whisper, and Mr. Stark’s face went soft again. Soft and full of love that seemed so strange and wonderful when he was focused on him. 

“I know, buddy. Thank you. But your health comes first. We could have moved the vacation up a week...it wouldn’t have mattered. What matters is you and Morgan being okay.” He reached out, brushing Peter’s hair back, then resting his hand on her cheek. “How are you feeling? Really?”

“My head hurts,” Peter admitted. “And I’m tired.”

“I’ll bet. Why don’t you get some sleep? When you wake up, Morgan and I will make you pancakes.” 

“Mr. Stark?” He asked after a moment when it was apparent that the man wasn’t going to leave anytime soon.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Did you guys have fun?”

“Yeah, Pete. We did. Thank you.” And the last thing he was aware of was the sensation of gentle fingers combing through his hair. 


End file.
